2 June: Lola was to write a letter to a lady whose daughter had been staying with me on a visit. The dog was much attached to this young lady, and had frequently worked with her. She began her letter with all sorts of nonsense so that at length I said: "First rap 'dear' and then tell her about the biscuits you had from Irene."

The letter: "Dear, certainly Irene is very nice to me" ... then "were"

... "What's the meaning of that?" I interrupted, but Lola lay down and said "Zu we!" ( = too indisposed.)

3 June: "Will you work now?" "No--we!" "Where have you a pain?" "O sag!" "What am I to say?" "Oh seh!" "But what am I to see?" "Ich!" "I am to look and see where you have a pain?" "Yes, yes!" But these "pains" seemed to have been called forth by laziness and possibly some slight fatigue.

15 June: A lady has come to stay with me for a few days and I said to Lola: "Why do you like Fraulien Grethe?" "Ich is zu artig." (This is indistinct but probably meant she is kind to me.) Presumably she could think of nothing else to say.

25 June: Lola had been brought indoors--away from her young family, and I said: "Is there anything you would like to have in the stable, now think?" "wenig uzi!" "What is uzi? do you mean music?" Answer. "Lid"

( = lied.) "What is that--singing?" "Yes!" "Do you like to listen to us when we sing?" "Yes, yes!"

24 July: "Lola! now think of something I am to do: give me an order!"

(By the way, in reply to a similar question put to Rolf by the wife of Colonel Schweizerbarth, at Degerloch, he had commanded her to "wedeln"

( = to wag!) N.B. This word being only used in connexion with _a tail_ in German!) But Lola merely ordered me "to work"--"What am I to work at?" I inquired. "Raking the garden, reckoning, writing or reading?"

And I was somewhat surprised, for she was used to seeing me at work at something or other for the greater part of the day; but after mature reflection she added--"ales" (Alles = everything).

27 July: To-day I invited her to tell me something she might be thinking about, adding: "Will you say something?" "Ja, esen." "Oh, Lola!" I said in desperation, "why all this talk about eating! about food! don't I hear enough of it from senseless labourers and maids? and now you begin too! It can't be otherwise, at present: say something else!" "Ich am esen" ... "What? _again!_ well go on" "... zu wenig narung." "Ich am essen zu wenig nahrung" ( = I from my food (derive) too little nourishment). "Ja!" Poor Lola!

10 August: To-day is my father's birthday: he is staying with us, and Lola was to give him a "good wish." I suggested all kinds of things, such as good health; long life; and so on, but she would have none of them. At last she rapped "Ich wunsche esen"; and after a short pause she continued, "... und ich auch" ( = I wish him food and for myself too.) "Now give him a second wish: something you yourself find good."

So she said: "Re jagen und has...." "And a third?" "Heiraten" ( = to marry). Such were the dog's wishes for my father's natal day! Food, Hunting and Marriage ... the first one being ever the central idea in a dog's thoughts--and yet, how necessary are all these three wishes to the maintenance of species--"urged ever onward by the driving-power of hunger and of love!" after all--there is something very simple and direct about an animal!

30 August: To-day I asked Lola: "Do you wish every one to marry and have children?" "No." "Why not?" "Arbeiten unmoglich," ( = work impossible). "Go on: if it is impossible, one simply does not work!"

"Und ausgen ..." "Go on?" "Auch zu vil esen!" (und ausser dem, zu viel essen = and besides that, too much eating). Here spoke experience.

1 September: Lola was shown some dots on a sheet of white paper, but declined to count them. "Why won't you count?" "Ich ursache one wisen!"

( = I have a cause (reason), without knowing (it)). Then she began to tremble violently, and I asked her why--to which she replied: "Ich kalt" (I (am) cold).

2 September: An old farm labourer and his wife had come to my room to see the dog, and in their honour Lola consented to do some sums. The old man was delighted when, on my suggestion, Lola spelt out his name: she rapped "Wilem," and when I said: "Did you hear that from me?" she answered: "No." "From his wife?" "Yes!" This accounted for the spelling, as the woman is from the Rheinland district, and says "Willem" for Wilhelm.

6 September: "Lola, why did you bite Jenny, yesterday?" (Jenny is a terrier lady-dog.) Answer. "Em ..." "What does that mean?" "Wust a--a und renen." ( = she was a dirty dog and also hunted.)

7 September: Lola came in from the farm quite wet, and I wanted to know the reason of this, as only the woods were still wet from the recent rains. To my question she made answer: "I in wet." "Were you in the gra.s.s or in the woods?" I demanded. "Gra.s.s!" "Is the wet gra.s.s nice?"

"Saw deer in wood--why I came to you!" In spite of such a tempting sight, she was evidently in a virtuous frame of mind: in earlier days she could never resist giving chase.

8 September: "Why are you not eating your food? is it bad?" "Yes!"

"What is wrong about it?" "Smell!"

20 September: "Lola," I said, "give me the reason for why you are alive! do you know one?" "Yes, no."

The next day: "Now tell me your answer as to why you are living?"

"Yes!" "Well?" "Egal ich lebe gern!"... (i.e. _egal_ is an expression of indifference, such as "_it is all the same to me_, I like living").

How simple and complete is the dog-point-of-view! "And is that all?

didn't you wish to add something more?"... "in Welt" ( = in (the) world). The expression "egal" she will probably have picked up from me.

22 September: To-day I noticed by Lola's behaviour that she wanted to say something, so I put the question to her, and she replied. "Yes."

"Well, go ahead!" "I wish to pay you for getting food for me!" "Do you want to give me money?" "Yes!" "But, where are you going to get it from--can you tell me that?" "Yes!" "From where?" "From you!" There was something quite logical about this way of arguing, for Lola had heard much talk about money, farm-hands being often paid by hour--and she had no doubt been an attentive listener and observer, at such transactions.

Then--all of a sudden--she rapped. "I without work!" "What do you want to have?" "Haue!" ( = a beating!). I thought I had misunderstood her, so repeated--"haue?" "Yes!" "Say something else!" "Reckoning." But the fact remained that she really longed for a beating--not having had one for a long time, for to my repeated inquiries she kept on with "Yes!"

So at length to make sure, I fetched my riding-whip and gave her a light flick, saying--"Is that what you want?" "Yes!" "And do you want more?" "Yes!" she insisted, though all of a tremble, and--unwillingly enough--I had to administer one more.

13 November: Lola had to write a letter to a lady of whom she is very fond: it ran as follows--"dear, I have just been in the yard, I like eating biscuits, I kiss you!" (I think this letter bears the evidence of being Lola's own composition!) Later in the afternoon, when she was out with me, I saw a notice put up saying: "Dogs are to be led on a leash"--and I invited her to read it, but she would only give it a glance. Both on our way back, and when we got home I returned to the subject, saying: "What was on that notice-board?" But she rapped "No!"

"What? you mean to say you don't know?" She had, however, already started rapping again--"ich unaro...." "Go on! surely the _o_ should be a _t_?" (Thinking she meant unartig = naughty). "No!" "Then what should it be?" "No." "Is it a dog's word?" "Yes!" "Well, tell me in a way that I can understand!" "No!" "You can't do so?" "No!" "Say something like it!" "Ja! ich irre, ich es ansehe morgen!" ( = yes! I erred, I (will) look at it to-morrow!)

On one occasion I had explained to her that there were also other languages; English and French, for instance, and I now once more tried to influence her memory by my own thoughts.

"Lola," I said, "do you know what is meant when I say--_je veux manger_--do you understand that?" "Yes!" "Then tell me!" "Ich wil esen!" "But do you understand this: _il faut que je travaille_?" "No!"

"Think again!" "No!" "Travailler?" "No!" This proving that what I had not taught and explained to her she was incapable of saying--or rather, spelling.

15 November: The following incident was communicated to the "Mitteilungen of the Society for Animal Psychology" (series 1916, No.

2, page 74), by Professor Ziegler:

"Lola had been for a walk with Professor Kindermann, and on her return was discovered to have a feather in her mouth. Fraulein Kindermann asked her: "What animal's feather is that?" she answered: "Hen." "How did you come by the feather?" "Killed hen!" "Why?" "Eat up!" "And have you eaten it up?" "No!" "Why did you run away?" "Fear." "Of what were you frightened, of people?" "No!" "Then of what?" "Ursache!" ( = cause, i.e. cause of fear.) There is something rather charming here in the way in which the dog confesses to her misdeeds, and at the same time owns up to having a bad conscience!"

16 November: Lola must have noticed to-day that there was roast hare on the midday dinner table, for in the afternoon when invited to make some remark she rapped: "Zu wenig ..." (then hesitatingly) "h ..." "Are you afraid?" I inquired. "Yes." "Nonsense, I shall not scold you!" "...

as!"--"Zu wenig has--who?" ( = too little hare) "Ich, o we!" ( = I, oh alas!)

18 November: To-day she started to rap nothing but nonsense; but in time it became more distinct, and ended up with "ich zalen!" ( = I (wish to) count). I asked her if this was a fact--and she promptly said "No!" She then kept on making her usual sign that she wanted to go down into the yard, so I let her out, but soon she ran up again quite briskly, and at once rapped out clearly and distinctly.--"Warum ich und sie so rau geartet?" "Is this what you mean?" "Yes!" "And--who is si meant for?" "Heni!" "_What?_" I exclaimed, "you are suddenly addressing me as _sie_?!"[22] "Yes!" "But Lola! that is what we only say to people we don't know well! you have always called me _du_ because you were fond of me--isn't that so? are you saying _sie intentionally_ now?"

"Yes!" "Yes? but why?" "Because strange!" "How _strange_?" "Yes!" "Was: warum ich und sie so rau reartet ( = why are I and you so roughly const.i.tuted?) the end of the sentence you began before?" "No." N.B. In this manner did she wish to lodge her complaint, so to speak, against me for not always understanding her when she prefers to try and "rub in" the meaning of her faulty spelling, by gazing at me in her "intent"

fashion--indeed, I had always sensed her annoyance at times when she had not been able to gain her ends in this way! In simple matters, such as "wish to eat," or "go out," I could of course, guess her desires, but she was of opinion that I ought to be more "understanding"

still--and this is difficult!

[22] Sie = you is the more formal mode of address, as opposed to the familiar "du" = "thou."

1 December: "Lola, what will become of you when you are dead? what will become of your body?" "If..." "No; that is no answer! You are to spell properly!" "Zu esen fur wurm" ( = food for worm.) "And, Lola ... your soul? do you know what that is?" "Ja, nur get in himmel!" ( = yes (it) only goes to heaven!) "Did you hear people say that?" "Yes!" From this it would seem that any seeking after the dog's own sensations on the subject are useless. By the way, some time before I had read Rolf's remark to her: "All tier hat seel, guck in aug" ( = all animals have souls, look in their eyes). And I then asked her: "Do you know what a soul is?" And she had said: "Yes." "Have I a soul?" "Yes!" "Has a stone one?" "No!" "And a horse?" "Yes!" "A bird?" "Yes!" "And water?" "No!"

"Have all dogs?" "Yes!" Lola had rapped this all out very nicely, and I praised her, to which she made response by a little spontaneous rapping--"isan..." "What does that mean?" "ich o wi glucklich!" ( = I, oh--how happy!) "Because I am pleased?" "Yes! yes!"

4 December: To-day I said to Lola: "Why don't I understand dog-language?"[23] "Oft eil" ( = often hurried.) "Yes, but even when I have tried, and paid attention I cannot understand!" "In hauch--zsuvzaes"

( = the first two words are "in breath," the remainder quite vague!) In a quarter of an hour I showed her a card on which a small child and a dog were looking at each other, and beneath--in Latin characters was written: "Wer bist du?"[24] "Can you read that?" I asked. "Yes!" So I put the card aside and said: "What is the second word?" "Bist." "But do you understand the sentence?" "Yes." "Which is saying it--the dog or the child? Look at both of them, they are young, and have met for the first time in their lives." "Both!"

[23] Lola often uses quite incomprehensible words and once declared that they belonged to "a particular dog-language"--my further inquiries have been quite fruitless, and these words were probably her own inventions!

[24] "Who are you?"

11 December: "Lola! why do you and Frechi always bite one another when you are allowed to go loose?" "Ambitious!" "Ambitious to see who is the stronger?" "Yes!" "And which of you two is the strongest?" "Frechi!"

She had applied the word with a nice sense of fitness: when two dogs meet for the first time this is exactly the feeling that arises--either _one_ of them is by far the strongest--a fact that both of them will be aware of, and silently acknowledge--or, their strength may be pretty evenly matched--in which case a fight will ensue, possibly even several fights, before the issue is finally decided. Is this not often _spiritually_ the case between man and man?

13 December: Lola had been chasing after the game and had been punished by having to go without her food. She was however, in high spirits and rapped "esen!" following this hint in half an hour with "zu esen!" ( = (give me) to eat!) I explained to her that this could not be done: that a punishment was imperative, if she would not break herself of her evil habits. Then Lola rapped out suddenly. "Lere mich artig sein!" ( = teach me to be good!")

22 December: I have been showing her a picture in a book of Fairy Tales. My brother was present at the time, and it was the picture of the house of a robber, the house being drawn so as to represent a face: it had indeed been very cleverly executed.

"Lola," said I, "whatever is there about that house--do you notice anything?" (And thought she would rap "face.") She rapped. "Is a person!" I avoided looking at it again and merely asked, "Tell me, does it look friendly, or angry, or nice?" "Spetisch." "Spottische?" ( = mocking.) "Yes." And we both thought this reply admirable, for the "house" _does_ look at one most "mockingly" out of the corners of its eyes.

31 December: "Lola, have you got worms?" "Yes!" "How did you get them?"

"Ja, zige!" "An animal?" "Yes." "Is there a goat ( = ziege) near here?"

"Yes!" I had seen none about, but asked her again: "Where is the goat?"

"Droif." "Do you know the name?" "Mittel!" ( = her expression for anything she is uncertain about.) "Why did you say _droif_?" "I not any sort of word will give!" On making further inquiries I found that there _was_ a goat in the immediate neighbourhood, and that the name of the family who owned it was _Freund_. I had never mentioned this name to Lola, so that she could only have heard it in the course of conversation among the people about, and then not very distinctly. In the evening, while I was absent, Lola stole some Marzipan. I expostulated with her in a serious, though friendly manner, and this evidently made her feel exceedingly uncomfortable, for she suddenly rapped--"Sag irgend bose!" ( = say something angry!)

1 January, 1917: "What is to-day?" "1.1. 1917!" "On this day we give good wishes to every one, so I will wish you much to eat, good health, and much going out: now wish me something!" "Am geln ..." (most indistinctly) I told her to repeat it, and she began again--"Am gu ...

elen zu aufh.o.r.en!" (i.e. am qualen zu aufh.o.r.en = to cease teasing.) "You can't put a _w_ after a _g_," I told her, but she persisted, and I waited in patience. There is no "q" in her alphabet, so she had found a way out very neatly! "Do I tease Lola?", I asked. "mich!" ( = me!) This is indeed sad! and I am not conscious of my failing, indeed, I think that Lola has a very good time on the whole!